[being a phantom thief means Akira's reflexes are sharp, quick, and impeccable. it means he can usually see attacks coming, can predict where they'll land and where they're coming from, and avoid them as necessary]
[but the emotionally charged nature of this conversation was distracting. the way her words-- the words of a god who believed humanity was at it's best best when being told how to live their lives by a higher being-- bound and choked him just like the Holy Grail's had back home. and that's why he doesn't see the kick coming until it's far too late]
[she gets a solid hit to the gut, a hit that knocks the wind clean out of him and sends him reeling backwards. it's by some miracle that he manages to hold onto the tub of dishware he was clearing from the tables, but he nearly drops it as he regains his footing. his free arm wraps around his stomach as he heaves for breath, pain already radiating from his stomach to his sides and up his ribs]
[. . .]
[he doesn't know what button he pushed, but. . . ah. so this is how things were going to be. quickly, he slides the rubber tub of dishes across the nearest table and hops back away from her, hand shooting to his belt where his knife is hidden underneath his busboy apron. he doesn't transform. not yet]
Caster-san-- [he manages to strain the words between breaths] -- is this really how you want to handle this?
no subject
[but the emotionally charged nature of this conversation was distracting. the way her words-- the words of a god who believed humanity was at it's best best when being told how to live their lives by a higher being-- bound and choked him just like the Holy Grail's had back home. and that's why he doesn't see the kick coming until it's far too late]
[she gets a solid hit to the gut, a hit that knocks the wind clean out of him and sends him reeling backwards. it's by some miracle that he manages to hold onto the tub of dishware he was clearing from the tables, but he nearly drops it as he regains his footing. his free arm wraps around his stomach as he heaves for breath, pain already radiating from his stomach to his sides and up his ribs]
[. . .]
[he doesn't know what button he pushed, but. . . ah. so this is how things were going to be. quickly, he slides the rubber tub of dishes across the nearest table and hops back away from her, hand shooting to his belt where his knife is hidden underneath his busboy apron. he doesn't transform. not yet]
Caster-san-- [he manages to strain the words between breaths] -- is this really how you want to handle this?